


Scintillate

by shigeko_xox



Category: DRAMAtical Murder - All Media Types
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - College/University, Eventual Relationships, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Masturbation, Past Drug Use
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-11
Updated: 2020-01-14
Packaged: 2021-02-22 12:42:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22216255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shigeko_xox/pseuds/shigeko_xox
Summary: intransitive verb: to emit sparks; to twinkle as the starsAu where Aoba is attending college, eager to get a start on his music careerEveryone has edgy pasts and Sei is there too#weallstanmizukitags will be added as the story goes on
Relationships: Koujaku/Seragaki Aoba
Comments: 1
Kudos: 9





	1. Prologue

I already knew that I would be in for quite a night when Mizuki invited me to a place that wasn't his house. Yet I still tugged on my jacket, grabbed my bag, and set out to meet up with him anyway.

I didn't bother taking my bike because the destination was only a few streets away.

After walking down the familiar blocks, I found myself taking a detour into a depressing apartment complex called Sogo Heights. Patches of bare trees lined the sidewalks, their branches gnarly and coated in a thin sheen of frost.

My feet climbed the dirty stairs up to the fourth floor, coming to a stop at door 417. The wood looked like it could give some deadly splinters, so I settled for kicking upon my arrival.

There was a disturbing amount of locks being unlatched from the other side (who in the world needs 12 locks?) before it was opened, revealing a man who definitely was not Mizuki with an uncomforting amount of scars on his face, neck, and arms.

I thought that I had went to the wrong door, before he gruffly stated, "So you're the boy Mizuki said was coming," his breath thick with the smell of alcohol. He looked me up and down in a way that made my stomach churn.

"Uh... yeah..."

His gaze was unsettling, yet I couldn't look away. As the time stretched I didn't know whether to stay or turn heel and run back down the stairs.

"Yo, Aoba! Glad you made it!" cut in Mizuki's voice.

My friend pushed Scarface aside, giving me a big grin and jazz hands. The awkward air was immediately diminished with his presence.

I laughed as he pulled me inside, leading me down a short hallway into a kitchen-living room combo. There was a girl with long blonde hair standing at the stove and one more guy sprawled on the couch. Mizuki sat me down on a bar stool and proceeded to introduce me to everyone.

The girl, Lara, was an exchange student who spoke three languages. The other guy introduced himself as Tokage and the Scarface guy didn't say anything. When Mizuki tried to tell me his name, he shot him a look that could kill, and so he shut his mouth.

Mizuki told me the reason for the gathering was because it was Tokage's 18th birthday. The boy grinned and sat in one of the stools beside me, telling me not to go bother his friend in the other room. He then started droning on about how Lara dyed his hair neon green and the gecko he saw in his bed last night and plenty of other pathetic stories that made me regret even showing up to this joint in the first place.

Mizuki must have noticed my boredom, as he slid me a shotglass with his trademark smile.

"Don't make that face, Aoba. We're gonna have some fun tonight!"

That was when Lara came out with a package of beer and slammed it on the table.

"Yes, dear! We're gonna have a good time tonight, right?"

  
×

  
Wrong.

As the sun made it's way down the sky, I only felt more and more uneasy. There was this feeling crawling at the back of my mind, but I didn't know what it was.

I tried to get it out of my head, throwing back one too many shots. Two too many. Four, six, nine.

It wasn't until around 10 or 11 that Mizuki cut me off, forcing me to sober up a little more. But that uneasiness was coming back, and I was desperate to stop it.

I stumbled down another hallway in search of the bathroom. I figured that if I doused my face with some cold water that I would be able to calm down and think a little more clearly. Or as clear as I could get with all the alcohol swirling in my gut.

When I tried one room, another guy was already standing there right in the doorway.

"Holy shｰ" I jumped back, hands coming up instinctively. When the hell did this dude get here?

"My bad," he mumbled.

We stand there a little awkwardly, before he gestures for me to follow him. He says something else but I am too far gone to understand him.

I follow him into another room, and he closes the door behind me. Several multi-colored lava lamps are laid out on a shelf and I eye a large tank in the corner of the room full with an assortment of fish.

"So you're that Aoba kid, right? Mizuki talks about you sometimes. I'm Takumi."

This must be the guy Tokage was telling me not to mess with earlier.

He picks up a plastic bag from the desk, dangling it in front of my face and flashing me a toothy grin as he does.

"'s called Icyhot. It will make you feel real nice."

I watch as unzips the bag and dumps the substance onto the desk. He lines it up into three lines and scrapes the rest to the side in a small pile. I knew faintly where this was going, and I wasn't sure if it was a good idea, but really, what did I have to lose?

Takumi hands me a thin white tube and says, "I'm gonna let you go first. Two are for you."

Hesitantly, I array the tube with my right nostril and inhale, almost gagging when I feel the powder fill my nose. I can't breathe for a few seconds, but I don't let that stop me from finishing.

When I'm done, I throw my head back and grunt off the discomfort. Air inflates my lungs once more, and it's as if I'm floating. It's fucking incredible.

Takumi laughs, patting my head, "Great job. You took it like a champ."

He swipes the tube from me and goes down to snort his fill.

I'm suddenly very aware of my heartbeat. It's loud, louder than before, as if the whole room is reverberating with it's rhythm. Is this normal?

Fractals of all colors frame my vision. My head starts spinning, and I feel something trickling down my face.

When I touch it, it comes away red, dripping from my fingertips and leaving little puddles on the floor.

I felt something hard impact with my cheek, and that was when everything completely faded to black.

×

  
A flash of blue.

Blue obscuring my vision. Is that my hair?

I try to flick it away, but my arm doesn't move. In fact, no part of my body can move at all.

My vision comes and goes, like a glitchy broadcast during a thunderstorm. I can hear voices all around my head, but I can't tell who is talking.

"Get the syringe!"

"But we've never used that before!"

"I don't give a fuck, just get the goddamn syringe!"

"There should be an instruction manual on the back."

I try to open my eyes and see who's there, but it's as if they are glued shut.

"I'm going to hold him down. Make sure you align it right."

"Holy fuck, this can't be happening-"

"Shut up! Just shut the fuck up and let me do my shit! Move!"

Suddenly, there's an unbearable burst of pain that fills my chest. I yell, reaching out to do anything to stop it, but my hands still won't move.

I vaguely wonder if this is the end...

But then it's gone. My eyes flutter open, and I realize that I am on the floor. Mizuki is hovering over me as well as that Takumi, and Lara is the one holding my wrists. They all have this unreadable expression on their face.

"I think he's good now," Lara murmurs.

"Should I take it out?"

"Probably."

There's another twinge, and it feels like a needle knitting through my chest. What's going on?

The only other sensation I feel is a light weight settling on my chest, like a sticky pad has been pressed against the skin. My shirt, which was pushed up, is pulled down and the buttons are swiftly closed.

"Aoba, how many fingers am I holding up?"

"Th-Three," I don't like how brittle my voice sounds.

"Don't let him stand yet. Give it time to get through his system."

What? What is in my system?

What the hell happened to me?

Lara releases me from her grip. "I'm going to get his things. You need to take him home."

"Agreed."

She disappears down the hallway, and the only sounds in the apartment for a few moments are the rustling of her movements and my breaths. I can't remember when my belongings got moved around but I can't really remember anything that happened here at all.

They help me stand when she comes back. I'm herded to the kitchen for a glass of water before I make my way towards the door.

Unfortunately, I find myself tripping onto the couch. Takumi comes back around to catch my fall.

"Hey, are you okay? Can you stand?"

I don't even have the chance to answer him before I'm ripped from his hold, and Mizuki stands between him and I.

"Don't even touch him, Takumi. This is all your fault in the first place."

At the deadly tone in his voice, Takumi immediately falters. He scoots out of our way, giving me an apologetic look before scurrying back to his room.

Once my shoes are back on (tied by Lara when I couldn't get my fingers through the knots) I'm out the door, waiting for Mizuki to get his car keys.

"Dude, this has been the littest birthday of my life," I hear Tokage laugh, followed hard clapping sound, probably him being smacked.

"Dumbass. He could have _died_ , and you're actually saying that?"

I don't have time to question that statement before Mizuki returns, keys in hand and my bag slung across his shoulder. Lara ushers us out whilst quietly talking to him, but I can't decipher what she's saying.

She pulls me into her arms, surrounding me in her gentle fragrance. Her eyebrows quirk in concern as she says, "Stay safe, hon."

And that's the last I see of her before she closes the door.

×

"Okay so..." I start, uncertain. "What exactly happened back there?"

"That guy, Takumi... he gave you something correct? That Icyhot stuff?"

I nod, and he sighs.

"He said that when it's in small doses, it can give you similar effects of Icyhot. Except it's hallucinatory, so you'd start to see things when it starts to fade from cool to warm," he sighs again, pushing back his hair. "But he also said that he must have given you too much, since it made you pass out.

"After you did, he picked you up and brought you to the living room. I had never seen him like that before; he was crying and shaking and his whole face was red. Once he told me what happened, I damn near threw him off the fucking balcony, I-"

The car stops abruptly, making me jump. The cold rage in his face has a shiver trailing down my spine.

I don't know how long we sit there in the middle of the road, the flickering of the street lights splaying across the windshield and distant car beeps the only sounds remaining.

When he starts again, much calmer than before, he reaches for me and ruffles up my bangs.

"I'm just glad you're alive. Your heart stopped beating, you know? I had to give you an adrenaline injection to get it going again."

I move my hand under my shirt, running it over the injection site, which I now notice is covered with a bandage. I can feel my heart thudding beneath it, and for the first time in my life, I feel immensely grateful for that beat filling my chest.

"Th-Thank you. For everything."

"Oh, hush. You're my buddy, I'm supposed to look out for you." He flashes a quick grin, and I find my lips making a smile of their own.

"Really. I'm able to go home tonight because of you. Thank you."

"I'm sure your grandmother would kill me if I let something bad happen to you. So, do me a favor and keep this a secret, alright?"

I laugh a bit. "Yeah, yeah."

"Good to hear. Plus if you have any issues later on, just call me."

The rest of the way home is in silence. I feel like I should say something more, but I can't quite find the words. Once we pull up to my house though, I realize that something is missing.

"My jacket..."

"Oh," Mizuki says, matter-of-factly. "I'll wash it and give it to you tomorrow, okay?"

"Okay."

"Do you need me to walk you in?"

"I'll be fine on my own."

"Okay. Well, goodnight."

I wave him off, and I stand there until I see the lights disappear at the end of the street.


	2. Chapter 1 ー 5 Years Later

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aoba has a not-so fresh start at university.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short chapter, but I am working on more ¬{^·￦·^}¬

My grandmother homeschooled me my entire life, so I never knew what public school was like.

There was a short time when I considered asking her if she could enroll me in the local high school, since I was positive she'd say yes. Movies made high school seem so glamorous, but I knew better than to assume that real-life was the same as the cinemas. So, I asked Mizuki.

Mizuki said it's like the rabbit hole from Alice in Wonderland. It seems nice at first, but as it goes on, it gets more and more terrifying. With that metaphor, I gladly threw out all reservations about attending public school.

But I was faced with a very serious decision once I graduated. Would I go to college?

When I asked Granny about it, she told me that earning a degree would take plenty of time and effort and if that I was willing to take the responsibility, that she would help me get applied. That was not at all what I was expecting, but it made me feel so indescribably giddy that I had to go mush my face in a pillow and scream.

When I told Sei about it, his smile was so bright it could have blinded someone. He also said that it'd be good especially if I got a little more social activity.

Which was a _fucking_ joke. After all ends were met, I got applied, moved out and attending, nobody talked to me whatsoever!

My heart was leaping out of bounds when I finally set foot on university grounds. Platinum Jail, the prestigious academy that Midorijima was now known for. It had multiple online courses as well for all age ranges. So even if you were a little kid looking to get your degree early, or bed-ridden in your 90's trying to finish off those classes, there was a course just for you.

What interested me the most was that this place also had an individual music and arts program. One entire section of the school had it's own art galleries, two spacious auditoriums, and recording studios so students could get a head start on their music careers.

And despite all of that, no one even bothered to say hello to me.

I sighed for probably the millionth time that night, poking at takeout sushi with my chopsticks. I hadn't even been gone that long and I was already missing my grandmother's food and the laughter that floated amidst the kitchen when we shared our dinners together.

Alone in my little house, I had no one to vent my problems to...

Swiping up another uramaki roll, I decide to wallow in my emotions just a little longer before I turn in.

×

  
Funny how my professor, Yuukatsuki-san, gave us a composing assignment based upon our emotions.

The first prompt was nostalgia. "Think about your childhood. Envelop those memories and childlike views into melodies."

The second prompt was about plans for the future. "Where do you imagine you will be, say in another 10 or 20 years? Write about your fears and hopes for the years to come."

"Lastly, I want you write about your current feelings. How are you kids doing these days? Take plenty of time on this one, as this will not only help me get to know you better, but you may find out a little more about yourself as well."

She also said that we were assigned to specifically work on the third one currently, as it would help ease us into the semester.

I frowned as I replayed that prompt again and again in my mind. The only emotion I was battling recently was loneliness, since I had no one to talk to. Could I really turn something so depressing into a song? I don't exactly fancy the idea of my teacher getting all nosy though...

I was brought out of my thoughts by a slick, wet sensation on my hair and the back of my neck, then a sudden weight crashing into my seat.

I jumped to my toes, whirling around so fast I nearly lost my balance. A guy was hunched over and leaning on my chair, water bottle spilling down his arm and all over the floor. That must have splashed on my neck just now.

"Oh no, I'm so sorry!"

Everything happened so fast that I could hardly comprehend his words. The guy, a few inches taller than me with snowy white hair, bowed profusely to me while totally ignoring the water running down his body.

"I'm fine..." I mutter, clearing my throat. "But look at yourself, you have water all over your clothes!"

The guy seriously looked as if he hadn't realized that. I abandoned my bag and dragged him to the wash rooms. There, I did my best to squeeze the water out of my hair.

What I thought was odd was that he immediately ran to the other side and toweled off in the corner, but I didn't think too much about it.

Straightening out my clothes, I turned around to go collect my things when I felt a tap on my shoulder.

"I... I-I'm really sorry about what happened just now!" he exclaims, now with a plastic mask muffling his voice. "I should have been paying attention to where I was walking, but... but-"

"You don't need to waste your breath on so many apologies. I've already forgiven you."

I walk out into the hallway, but he doesn't let me get that far.

"Uhmmm... I'm sorry to bother you again but, could you help me with something?"

I shift my weight to my other foot. "What do you need help with?"

"I'm looking for Yuukatsuki-san's office. Do you know where it is?"

"It's two corridors down from where she usually holds her class," I point to the giant directory down the hall, "You can find the accurate directions on one of the maps."

"Ah, thank you!"

And with that, he makes his getaway speedily, shoes squeaking against the tile.

I heave a sigh. What a weird guy.


	3. Chapter 2 ー Dream Pop

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aoba finds himself immersed in a dreamy wonderland style of music.  
> ⚠ NSFW ahead ⚠

When I wake the next morning, the first thing I notice is that my body is very warm and my chest is tacky with a light layer of sweat.

A pillow also somehow winded up in between my legs, slightly damp and pressed tight against my crotch.

Was I... humping the pillow... in my sleep?

Just the thought makes my face heat and tingle.

Well, it's definitely been awhile. With school and the move, I haven't had a lot of time to focus on my bodily needs.

I pull my old tee over my head and roll on my back, peeling off my briefs as I go. The covers are kicked and hang off the edge of the bed. My nipples perk up at the chilly air wafting in through the vents, and my cock responds with a throb of it's own. It's already slick and ready to be touched.

I bring one hand to my chest and tug at a nipple, spreading my legs a bit wider and trailing my other hand down to cup my thigh. Since it's been awhile, I want to take my time with this.

Soft moans escape my mouth as I re-explore my sensitive areas. I remember that when I flicked here, it would get my knees really weak. Goosebumps prickled up on my skin with a drag of my fingernails. _Oh_ , and here, it feels nice when I pinch just a little...

I have myself fully turned on in no time, and finally bring both hands to my nether regions. I use one hand to stroke myself and the other to trace my fingers around my entrance.

I don't push them inside, but I go for rubbing in little circles. It's just the right amount of pressure and the stimulation brings me all the more closer to the edge.

"Haaahh... aaah!"

I feel pretty good, and even better when my hips start rolling unconsciously. My body knows exactly what it wants and it's working itself on reaching it's goal.

My eyes flutter shut and I relax my muscles, sinking into the mattress and letting the pleasure wash me away. I'm so close and ready to come so much that I can taste it, my release bubbling right below the surface-

That's when my alarm cuts through the heated atmosphere, startling a violent shiver out of me.

"Holy shit!" I quickly wipe my hand on the now dirty tee and reach blindly for the offending device. Only when my fingertips make contact with it, it disappears from my touch. Followed by a quiet thump, which means it must have fallen on the floor.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," I curse as I sit up and lean over the side of the bed to retrieve it. I jab the snooze button to silence it and slam it back down on the bedside table. I continue mumbling profanities as I flop back in my original position.

The barest rays of sun had started to peek through the blinds, which means that I should be getting up pretty soon. 

I spread my legs again even wider than before, shoving my hands between them to fondle their previous targets hard enough to rub them raw. Abandoning my irritability, a loud cry is forced out of me along with my essence, and my body rides out the first orgasm it's experienced in weeks.

  
×

  
I found out that guy who wasted water on me was named Clear. He sat in the corner of the room tuning a guitar during Yuukatsuki-san's class, and every now and then I caught his eyes on me. I guess he must still feel bad about what happened.

I also overheard that he has an ill grandfather, and may possibly be ill himself since he always wears face masks. It might just be a rumor, but it still seems like a likely circumstance.

I also got to meet another professor, a French man who was vaguely known by the staff and students as Fursy. He taught music theory and history, and was a part of a band called Les Discrets. He played a few of his songs for us and gave us a preview of the one he was currently working on.

Fursy played his guitar and keyboard with such alluring expertise that had me holding on to his every movement. His music seemed to reach through me and caress my soul, and I even felt the burn of tears touch the back of my eyes. I probably applauded the loudest out of all of the students.

At the end of class, I waited around until the auditorium dwindled down to mostly empty. I slugged my bag over my shoulder and walked to his desk, suddenly a little anxious once I realized what I was going to do. Was this even proper etiquette?

"Uh, F-Fursy?" I cringe at my stutter. 

If he noticed, I'm glad he doesn't say anything. "What do you need?"

"I just... have some questions..."

We ended up getting into a chat about the subgenre of metal called shoegaze (or what used to be called dream pop back in the day) that his band bases in. It originated in the United Kingdom and consists of guitar distortion and "fuzzy" vocals, creating what he called "an ethereal sound."

I also learned that he was an artist. He even showed me one of his portfolios, which entailed gorgeous, detailed sketches of everything from skeletons to peacocks. This guy was insanely talented.

Fursy eventually walked me to the door and told me jokingly to go bother someone else. I went my separate way with a bounce in my step and a stupidly wide grin plastered on my face.

I was now very inspired to get a start on my composition.

  
×

The usually-packed internet cafe not far from Platinum Jail was surprisingly empty. It looked and sounded like it had been deserted. However, I can't say that that's always a bad thing.

I ordered an iced coffee and climbed into the one booth that had a window seat. I'm glad that I'm finally able to enjoy the view here, since it's almost always full to the brim of college girls talking about cringeworthy gossip so loud you can't hear yourself breathe. Their perfume is so strong that I can still smell it; it must be ingrained into the seats by now.

I pull out my laptop and after hopping on the internet, do a quick search for shoegaze. Thousands of search results popped up of definitions, musicians, and album reviewers. I scrolled through a few pages before one blog caught my eye.

It was ran by a teenage girl who posted anything and everything about the shoegaze genre. I quickly saved the site to my bookmarks and browsed her personal favorite selection of bands.

Interestingly, a group called Les Discrets popped up in the list. When I hover over the name, another list drops down that reads:

_Members: Fursy Teyssier, Audrey Hadorn, Winterhalter_

I found what I was looking for.

Smiling like an idiot, I tap on the name, and another site opened. The header showcased artwork that looked dangerously similar to the ones my professor showed me earlier today.

There was a shop that sold art books and albums for reasonable prices, and a page that showcased the group's work over the years. Fumbling around in my bag, I pull out my headphones and connect them to my laptop. I click on the first album and let it shuffle play:

_L'échappée, from the album Septembre et Ses Dernières Pensées_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Les Discrets is actually a real shoegaze metal group from France! I highly recommend that you check out their songs and visit their website: http://www.lesdiscrets.com/music


	4. Chapter 3 ー Hydrangea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aoba has taken a turn for the great as he brings his first song to a close... or maybe not?

Barely two months into attending Platinum Jail and I was already at the process of doing the very thing that I knew was my calling. 

Fursy's eyes lit up when I told him that he was the main inspiration for my composition. He immediately signed me up for his extracurricular classes, so now I saw him twice on my school days instead of just a couple times a week.

Those classes were a lot smaller and more hands-on than the ones he usually held. He taught me (as well as ten other students) all sorts of chord progressions, and gave pedal recommendations to the bunch of us that played the guitar, which really boost me into motivation mode.

In Yuukatsuki-san's class, we had to explain our writing process as well as play our composition bit by bit as it was developed. She was brutal as she ripped up our pieces, but she did it in such a manner that I couldn't even get angry with her. Since she wavered more on the criticism side than the putting-you-down side.

Clear also warmed up to me a little more in the past weeks, waving at me in the halls and greeting me when I arrived to our shared classes. He said that it seemed unreal that I didn't have any friends, since I have a "very warm charisma" and "approachable nature."

"I do have friends, they just don't live here," I explained to him.

He frowned, but didn't say anything else. That night when I opened my journal, I found a slip of paper stuck in it with his name, number, and LINE tag written in _calligraphy_ with little stars scribbled all around it.

I chuckled as I went to save the contact in my phone. I cannot get over how weird he is!

However, weird or not, he's still a nice guy. He texted back with all sorts of emoticons (predictably), and said that if I ever need any help to just give him a call.

And now, strumming through my nearly-finished project (now with two new _amazing_ pedals I found online) and marking down new notes, I was faced with a difficulty that even my teacher had pointed out countless times.

I didn't have a title for the damn song. And try as I might, I just couldn't find one that properly suited it.

So, I took up Clear's offer and called him up.

"Good evening, Aoba-san," he murmured into the receiver. "How are you doing?"

"Uhm, a little stressed to be honest," I grab a rubber band from my desk and pile my hair into a messy bun. "You know about our composition assignments, right?"

"Yes! Of course!"

"Well, so... I don't have a title for mine yet, and I can't exactly submit it without giving it a title first..."

"Ohh, so you want me to help you make one?"

"Yeah, that's basically what I'm saying."

There was silence from the other end for so long I thought he hung up. Just as I checked to see if the call was still running, he chimed in, "Well, could you play it for me first, and then I'll go from there?"

 _I literally play it in class every day._ I think a little snarky. I set my phone on speaker mode, gather my guitar in my arms, and start to play.

Lately all the bad feelings have gone down a little, but they still creep in slowly and make me feel empty and cold, kind of like a poison. I tried to make this melody move in the same way, starting out soft and rolling through the notes and various volumes.

When I finish I tell some of this to Clear, but I explain it in a less depressing way so I don't sound like all edgy. The last thing I want is this kid giving me like... flowers or some shit to make me feel better.

"I think your song is lovely, Aoba-san. You have a very beautiful voice."

My heart feels warm at the comment. "You don't have to flatter me, you know."

"It's not flattery, it's the truth!" he whines, and I swear I can hear him pouting.

He pauses for a moment before speaking again. "Couldn't you just call it Poison, because of the simile you used?"

He has a good point, but it still doesn't sit right with me. "Isn't that a little basic?"

"Hmmm... maybe Venom?"

"That's literally the same thing."

"Wh-What about... Venomic?"

"That's not even a word."

"I-I don't know!" he sounds exasperated. "I'm sorry Aoba-san, but my brain isn't really functioning properly right now. I'll think of something by tomorrow."

I don't even have the chance to respond before the tone clicks, and he's gone. Sighing, I return my guitar to it's case and stack my music sheets together before sliding them into one of my folders.

I take a pair of sandals from the closet and slip them on by the door. Wallet in my back pocket, I exit the house and make the hike to the dinky liquor store down the block.

When I return, I set my purchases in the fridge and pad to the bathroom to take a quick shower, scrubbing every inch of skin and ringing out my hair when it got too soaked. I run the bathwater next and sprinkle in some salts. Letting the tub heat up, I return to the kitchen to collect a wineglass from the cupboard and pour a glass of now cool vodka.

I'm two steps out the kitchen before I go back for the whole bottle.

×

Hydrangea.

It was perfect.

This title was like the glass slipper to my song. It was unique, simple, and exactly what I was looking for.

"Clear, I owe you _big time,_ " I say, my voice trembling, "Thank you."

"It's no problem! You don't have to do anything in return!"

Clear said that since the song was pretty but the theme was poison, he looked up different types of flowers and plants as well as their toxicity levels. Because flowers are both pretty and poisonous. Facepalm.

I can't believe that I couldn't come up with something like that. What good of a musician would I turn out to be if I struggled with something as simple as titles?

Later I accompanied Clear during one of his own classes, where he was learning how to play the flute. His teacher let me sit at her desk to finish up on some work, which I took upon gratefully.

One of Yuukatsuki-san's recommendations for finalizing our sheet music was a software called Finale Notepad. I downloaded it in class yesterday and was thoroughly impressed with it's functions, as I could play a few notes and it would instantly recognize the scale.

However I knew that playing during this class would be rude, so I copied off my rough drafts, replaying the piece through the software (which was another cool function) to check if it sounded right.

The lesson was just about wrapped up when I finished the last line of music. Saving it to my documents, I hurried on out with a quick nod to Clear. My heart pounded with excitement to get this printed and turned in.

×

As I'm chowing down on a bowl of yakisoba, my phone dings twice with two messages from Mizuki, which read:

_momo-juice: bro i'm hosting a small private party at black needle tomorrow night 8 pm_

_momo-juice: if ur free ur welcome to come :^)))_

A party, huh?

I don't know how to respond, but I don't want to leave him on read, so I type back a quick _thank you_ and return to slurping my food.

It's been so long since I've gone to any social gathering, mainly because I haven't always had the greatest experiences with them. I absentmindedly bring my hand to that spot right over my heart, where I-

No, fuck that. I don't want to think about that right now.

The waitress, a middle-aged woman, smiles as she serves me another long island tea. I drink it down gratefully, hoping that the alcohol will distract me.

The thing is that I also haven't seen Mizuki in a while. I've been missing familiar faces more and more recently, to the point that I see them in my dreams. Especially my brother; if he were here I could have asked him about the party by now and he would have known immediately what to do.

I finish the noodles quickly and make my way to the front desk to pay the bill. I barely catch the woman's farewell, as I'm already out the door and rushing into nightlife.

Once I arrive home, I swiftly toe off my shoes and open my laptop to Skype. I dial Sei a few times, and when he doesn't answer I decide to call him on my phone.

His face appears behind the camera a moment later, but I feel bad when I see his messy hair and dark eyes. He must have been sleeping.

"Oh, sorry... is now a bad time?"

He just smiles, wide as ever, and softly murmurs, "I always have time for you, Aoba."

My lips curl into a smile of their own.

We get to talking about virtually everything that has happened since I moved out. He gives me updates about his health, and I tell him about my professors, and the oddities of my classmate Clear. I break out my guitar and sing Hydrangea for him, which makes him cheer and squeal. When I hear a muffled thump, I know that that was Granny protesting against the noise.

Somehow the conversation takes a turn for the emotional. I wind up in tears with snot running out of my nose, crying in a strangled voice about all of the problems that have built up in the past few weeks.

"Nobody will talk to me. _Nobody_. The weird guy talks to me, yeah, but nobody else even _bothers_ to say hello to me. It's like I'm a ghost!"

This is the first time I've shared these sorrows with someone else, and even though I'm mildly embarrassed, I'm happy that it was with my brother.

Sei has an expression contorted with concern as he nibbles his bottom lip, probably trying to come up with some words.

But then he doesn't.

My heart feels like it's falling apart in my chest. Not even my brother can figure out what to say about my situation.

"I-I'm sorry, I got a little extra there... j-just go back to sleep, and I'll-"

"Think of the camel that carried a thousand pounds of straw across the desert. Eventually, all it took was one more piece, and it was enough to break it's back. Aoba, think of that straw as your stress. You need to get it off your back, or you too will begin to break from the smallest of things... but unfortunately, I think that's already happening."

I sit there quietly for a few moments, letting the words sink into my mind.

"I think... that it would be great if you went to that party tomorrow. You've done very well, and you deserve the break. I'm so proud of you," he smiles at me again, and the sight makes me sniffle. "I'm know Granny is proud of you too."

"R-Really?"

"Of course."

"Aghh... I love you, man," my voice sounds really gross, but I can't bring myself to care. Damn, I'm feeling pretty exhausted after crying for so long.

"I love you too. Now go to sleep, and promise me you'll go tomorrow!"

"I promise, don't worry. And... thank you, Sei... you always know what to _say_."

He giggles, and the sound alone banishes any lingering ugly emotions. "Sweet dreams, Aoba."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaahhh, sibling love always melts my heart  
> I've ~~stolen~~ borrowed the following song as Aoba's composition, so if you want to get a feel of it then I'd recommend giving it a listen  
> Hydrangea: Circe Poisoning the Sea - Alcest


End file.
